Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

By the end of the sulfuric acid and cold water washing maltreatment, the shivering mat of bleeding meat and scorched dermis was Zarina. Over the past several days, even I was frequently startled by how Zarina’s appearance scared me. She looked like something out of a horror movie, like the victim of a serial killer. In her mind, the latter could have been a plausible explanation for what she was about to become. But the fact that she triggered my basic instinct of fear and fight or flight, instead of lust anymore, meant that things had to change. My decision to transition from a breaking phase to training was made when I found us both in a situation where I had to ask her a question.

As you can predict, I had burned Zarina with sulfuric acid because of how much it hurt her. But there was also a method to my madness, though it may seem like I am merely trying to rationalize my choices. See, the night before, I had experimented with stinging Zarina’s private parts and covering her skin with leafs from the Australian gympie-gympie plant. To avoid being stung myself during her future fated rapes, I wanted to be sure I gotten all the gympie-gympie hairs out of her skin, or at least denatured them with the acid. Each gympie-gympie hair looks like a microscopic hypodermic needle in both sharpness and ability to inject a toxin of peptides that was not identified until 2020.

The sting from the gympie-gympie plant is reputed to be worst of any plant in the world. I suppose it was fitting that I save the best, or worst, for last. I was careful in handling the plant, as reportedly the pain increases during the first 30 minutes after contact and is unbearable for days. The scariest part is that the stinging can last for up to 2 years, and the hairs will release their toxin again upon physical pressure or even contact with water. The peptides in the gympie-gympie toxin are so stable that even leaves that have been dead for decades can still sting.

The time-tested treatment for removing the gympie-gympie hairs is to use something sticky like tape or wax to pull them out. The gympie-gympie plant is common in Queensland,—where I sourced it from—and aborigines have been making sticky mixtures as a remedy since long ago. Zarina’s legs, armpits and mons pubis were due for a waxing anyway, but I also made sure to go over her whole body with tweezers and magnifying glasses, perhaps poking and pinching a bit too hard throughout. Even the tweezing of the gympie-gympie hairs was a fraught process and both of us had to wear masks, as the hairs and toxins can become airborne and cause allergy-like sinus problems and acute sore throats. Hapless Zarina already had a sore throat courtesy of the head of my cock, as I had spotted bruising at the back of her esophagus. 

Like with the electrical current and pepper spray, I was paranoid about feeling the effects myself. Call me a coward if you like for being able to dish it out, but not take it. I dare you to try out any of these forms of torture, especially after you have witnessed the effects on another human being. So this is why the sulfuric acid burns were actually advantageous. But even after coating spots all over Zarina’s body with acid burns, I had the nagging paranoia that I might have missed one gympie-gympie hair somewhere.

  Sure I could, and did, run a gloved hand over and squeeze every inch of Zarina, to make her yelp, and see if any gympie-gympie hairs were left and could be triggered. But this was far from an exact measurement, when every part of her body was always in pain. Ultimately, the only way I could be sure that I had removed all the toxic hairs was to ask. Thus, beginning to speak was simply was the fallout from my decision to torture her with this particular plant. I cannot say this is why I delayed stinging her with the gympie-gympie leaves until now, but it did force my decision. 

As I stared at Zarina and drank in the wreckage of her once-perfect form, I remembered how beautiful I thought she was, when I first saw what she looked like. I had instinctively reached out a hand to touch her, even though it was just a photo. She had always looked ravishing since I first spotted her in the street of Baku, despite walking over a block away from where I had stood. But now that I had her captive and in restraints within my grasp, my mind was warning me not to touch her, lest I endure a sting for years.

If anyone feels too much odium towards me for the ways in which I injured and mangled Zarina, know that even I felt a twinge of guilt during my refractory periods when I looked at Zarina’s ruined appearance. I could not but help myself, but again and again a small thought in my head justified my choice of Zarina as my prey because of the Azerbaijani state’s atrocities. Long before I had begun planning to capture a sex slave I had read reports of the credibly documented human rights violations against both Armenians and their own Azerbaijani citizens. There are countless videos on dark alley genre websites of Azerbaijani soldiers and policemen torturing and beheading defenseless men and women. In one video released on Telegram, a captured Armenian female soldier, Anush Apetyan, has been stripped naked, had her legs and fingers cut off, and one eye socket filled with a rock. You can debate the moral relativism of whether I am better or worse amongst the lowest of the low, but I did not kill Zarina or permanently disfigure her.

Remember, most of my ideas for what to do to Zarina and my slaves came from studying history. Before you chastise me or anyone in the past, think to yourself whether you have ever wished that some truly evil person befall a ghastly fate. Have you ever read a headline about a murderer or pedophile and thought that their sentence was too light? Or maybe in a flash of anger you had vengeful pipe dreams about a driver who cut you off in traffic, or a kid who was mean to you in school? What does it say about us as a species how quickly we can wish cruelty on others, for what are everyday prosaic occurrences? I had no animosity towards Zarina personally, but I could tell myself I was the modus of her karma. The 3rd century BC Confucian scholar Xunzi wrote, “Human nature is evil, goodness is only acquired training.”